The Chronicles of Crystania
by R.C.C
Summary: Ashram has taken his people on a search for a better life. Will he be able to save his people, or will he die trying? This is my version of what happened in Crystania. I was rather disappointed with it.
1. Land Ho!

Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh

Prologue

Land Ho!

Stench. That was the first thing one noticed now. After being out at sea for weeks, everything gave off a vile scent of rotting flesh and brine. Everything and everyone reeked like the pervasive liquid that dared to call itself water. It wasn't water. It was poison. And people were beginning to forget that now, in their thirst. The supplies of food had diminished weeks ago, and the fresh water had dried a few days ago, or something, no one quite remembered when; it seemed so long ago.

Decked out in heavy black armor and a thick cloak, Ashram was seriously considering shoving aside all decorum and stripping. He was sweating heavily, and his armor was hot to the touch. His long midnight hair was tangled and sticky; his long bangs were disheveled and stuck to his forehead. He leaned upon the wooden railing at the bow of the ship, gazing out at the vast sea in front of him. It had seemed full of promise, his idea, but now it seemed so wrong. Had he led his people to their deaths out here? He was sure they would find land away from Lodoss. He was _sure_. But not anymoreNow he was thinking it did not exist at all. That it never _had _existed.

He had set out for an imaginary continent. Ashram let out an exasperated yell and slammed his hands down on the railing. No one looked at him. They were all too weak. They were all too far-gone. All except Pirotess. She was sitting in the shade of the mast with her legs splayed out in front of her. Her amber eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion, but still retained a glimmer of their original sharpness. Dark Elves seemed to retain their sanity longer than humans. She stared at him, but his own cold gaze remained glue to the horizon. The goddamn forsaken horizon.

_Why me? Why us? What did we ever do to deserve this? First we are given Marmo, that hellhole of an island. Then we are repulsed from Lodoss. Now we are floating in the middle of an unending sea, slowly going mad and dying of thirst_. Thoughts like these buzzed like angry wasps within Ashram's blurred mind. He finally glanced over his shoulder at the Dark Elf hiding in the tiny shadows.

"Pirotess…?" his voice was quieter, yet harsher than he remembered it. The Dark Elf started, her bright eyes snapping open. She slowly pulled herself to her feet, before leaving the security of the shadows to join her King in the harsh sunlight.

"Yes, sire?" she whispered. Ashram swallowed and licked his lips, but his mouth was dry.

"The other ships, are they all within your sight?" he asked. Pirotess paused for a moment before turning and scanning the sea.

"No sire, I see only twenty-two," she responded.

"Only twenty-two… where are the other four?"

"I do not know sire."

Ashram put more weight on the railing. "I know, I was just… never mind," he sighed.

"Sire?" Pirotess braved a step forwards.

"I'm fine," that was a lie. The two at the bow lapsed into a tense silence as Ashram continued staring down the horizon with cold gray eyes. He heaved a heavy sigh and his armor creaked as he shifted. "How are the others faring?" he asked even quieter. Pirotess' eyes narrowed and she moved her gaze to the side.

"As best as possible, sire. We've had no food for two and a half weeks and no water for two days. Everyone is weak."

"How many dead?" he dreaded the answer even before he asked. Pirotess paused.

"From this boat? Thirty-four, as of yet, milord," she finally answered.

"Thirty-four? So many, so soon?" Ashram actually turned around to look at her this time. She seemed to resist shrinking back.

"Yes sire, mostly invalids and children," she reported softly. She watched the expression on her Master's face change from shock to defeat; neither expression suited him, she thought with a heavy weight of sadness clenching her chest.

"Yes… yes… I see…" he murmured as he turned back around. "You have heard nothing from the other ships?"

"No, sire. Not many are still… up and going about their jobs…"

"I see," was all Ashram said to that. He once again planted his hands upon the wooden railing and leaned much of his weight on it; the wood creaked in defiance. Pirotess wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to console him, to tell him they would find land soon. She wanted so many things, but they were all just out of her grasp. "You are dismissed," his cool voice broke through the maelstrom of her thoughts, and emotions, and here eyes widened. Habit took over as she snapped to attention and gave a small bow. He took no notice as she returned to her shaded spot near the mast.

Ashram took one hand off the railing and covered his face with it_. Why? Why? Why, God, why?_ Was all he could think coherently as the unforgiving sun pounded down upon his shoulders. He debated throwing himself into the sea then and there. His armor would weigh him down, and he would be dozens of feet under by the time anyone even thought of a rescue attempt. He paused. Then again, no one might even try to save him. A wry smile played upon his lips. Yes, they must hate him now. They would probably celebrate his death after all he had put them through. Thoughts of these kind now swirled in his delirious mind as the ship pushed ever onward.

Pirotess watched her master's back. He was stock-still as he leaned on the railing, with the sun gleaming on his dark armor. _He really shouldn't be wearing that_, she thought, _he's going to get heatstroke before this day is up_. She did not like the way he looked now. The journey was taking its toll on him, physically and mentally. His eyes were no longer cool and sharp, but they were not tired, they were almost crazed. His voice almost sounded normal. Only those who really knew him would have been able to sense the uneasiness in his voice. She also did not like that he would not move from the railing. She would gladly give up her small amount of shade for him, but she had so far dared not ask him to sit. He was a strong man, and a stubborn one.

Groder was on another ship. Last time she had made contact with him was two days ago, via telepathy. Even though the council revoked his powers, he still managed some illegal gifts. His ship had not been faring any better than theirs. Hobb and that meadow sprite, _what's his name_, Pirotess could not remember, but it did not really matter, were on Ashram's ship, but they were below decks. The priest of Myrii had been doing his best to ease the pain of his fellow shipmates, but soon even he gave up as his energy depleted and his spells waned.

Pirotess' mind returned to Ashram, as it did so often, and she contemplated placing a sleeping spell on him in order to drag him into the shade without his knowledge. He would surely realize what she had done when he awoke, but he would be much better rested, and it would give him a few spare minutes where he was at peace. Peace was something Pirotess had never seen Ashram have. Pirotess slowly raised her hand and almost began reciting the spell when something caught her eye. She froze and her heavy-lidded eyes widened to their full capacity. She stood and took a few unsteady steps forwards.

"My Lord Ashram…" she started. He turned his head to her.

"What do you want?" he growled. His furrowed eyebrows eased and he straightened slightly as he turned around fully, catching her wide-eyed stare. "What is it?"

Pirotess resisted the urge to point, for she knew he could not see it. After all, he was so near sighted, all humans were. "Land," was all she could stutter.

**Author's Note:** Whee, I went to look for Record of Lodoss War Fanfiction and found that it was in short supply… so I thought, if I can't read it, I might as well write it. I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Homestretch

Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh

Review Replies:

Lady Ferrilonver: Tehe. I like but I'm going to try and update the version too.

euphorbic: I know, I thought the same thing. There is a severe lack of Record of Lodoss War fanfiction, and an even worse lacking in the Ashram (and Pirotess, too)department! Anyway, thanks! I'm glad you like the my depiction of Ashram, but he just a sort of... obsessive kind of man, you know? First it was Beld's dream, then it was taking care of the people of Marmo. The people are so important to him, that it seems he forgets about himself. If he dies, he is just a "necessary shield", I believe was the term. Anyway, yes, this is an alternate universe Crystania fic. :-p Crystania was a good idea, but rather poorly done, in my opinion. Well, actually, no, I like Crystania, but still. Tehe. I'll shut up and get on with it now.

Chapter One

Homestretch

A roar from a few of the nearby boats, the ones carrying Dark Elves, roused many of the occupants. Soon the ships were all awake and rushing to catch the first glance of the elusive land. So many were crowding at the bow, that the captain started yelling; the boat was beginning to pitch forwards. Pirotess was crowded towards Ashram. She was pushed into him, and the heat of his armor burned her skin. She hissed and pulled back, not looking at his glare. She began forcing the desperate civilians back with limited success. It was not until Ashram unsheathed his Demon Sword that everyone calmed down. He glared at the people in the front, not too unkindly, but enough to get the point across. He turned back to the bow of the ship, his eyes narrowing, straining to see the land.

"Pirotess," he called and she smiled; his voice was much stronger already.

"Yes, sire?"

"You see land," he stated and she nodded.

"Yes, sire."

"How far?"

"I cannot tell, sire."

"Then how long until we reach it?"

"I cannot discern that either, sire," she muttered sadly. He turned on her with his black cape swirling.

"You cannot tell?"

"No, sire. The land could be very big yet very far away, or very small yet very close," she answered quietly. She saw him mull it over. He glanced about. His gray eyes landed on several of the ragged people on the ship; they were all staring at him vacantly, expectantly, and hopefully. Pirotess saw his back straighten and go rigid.

"Captain!" Ashram called over the crowd.

"Yes, sire?"

"Send messages to the other ships: we're going full speed ahead," Ashram ordered and the captain paused.

"But sire, we have no more pigeons…"

"Then use lights! Code! Come on man, be resourceful!" Ashram growled and spun back around, facing the horizon.

"Uh, yes, Sire!" came the answer as men scurried to carry out his demands. A man lit a lantern with a shutter and began to blink out messages to the other ships, hoping to catch their attention. After several moments, another sailor approached Ashram; Pirotess intercepted him.

"Please, I must speak with Lord Ashram," he almost pleaded. Pirotess arched a slender eyebrow.

"Problems?" Ashram called without turning to the man.

"Y-yes, sire. We received the order to go full speed ahead, but… we cannot bring out the oars."

"Why not?"

"We are too weak, sire! Even if we could get them out and into the water, we wouldn't be able to move them," the sailor cried and Ashram turned around. He glanced about again.

"You need muscle power?" Ashram asked almost challengingly. He began dragging out what were left of his soldiers, or at least, the healthiest looking ones. "Then you will get power," he growled and began pushing the soldiers below decks. "Everyone who _can_ row, _will_ row," he stated firmly. "You too," Ashram nodded to the sailor, who quickly scurried in front of Ashram and began back to the oars, with Ashram close on his heels.

"Sire?" the sailor quipped as they entered the oar room. Several of the men taking their seats at the oars looked up curiously, and some angrily, at Ashram. Ashram glanced over his shoulder to see Pirotess had indeed followed him. He turned to a corner and removed his cloak. He began unlatching his armor.

"Pirotess, help me with this," he ordered as he loosened his upper armor.

"Sire?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, sire," she obediently helped him pull his heavy armor over his head, leaving him in a dark gray tunic, and set it in the corner. She stood to the side as he removed his waist, and leg armor. She was even more surprised when he set the Soul Crusher beside the pile of armor. He removed his gauntlets and gloves, and handed them to her, turning back towards the men, who stared blankly.

"I said everyone who can row, will row, that includes me," he said flatly and pushed his wayward hair over his shoulder. There was a stunned silence as he took a seat, ignoring Pirotess' indignant squeals. "What? Row!" he yelled, placing his own hands on the oar in front of him. The men around him jumped and quickly followed suit. Soon all but two of the oars were in the water and sweeping determinedly.

Just then Priest Hobb scurried in the doorway.

"Sire!" Hobb gasped. Ashram would have raised his head defiantly had he not been so preoccupied with the piece of wood in front of him that was the oar.

"Yes, Hobb? I'm a bit busy," Ashram decided to remain nonchalant about his stooping. He was _going _to get them to land, and if it meant doing a peasant's job, he would do it.

"Oh sire…" Hobb whispered and it looked like he was about to burst into tears. Ashram almost laughed then and there, but then thought better of it. He would probably give nearly everyone around him a heart attack if he broke his façade of ice. "Please, let me help," Hobb said and walked through the benches. Ashram watched him out of the corner of his eye as the Priest made his way up to the platform that held the drum. When Hobb reached the platform, he turned towards the rowers. His sparkling eyes roved over the crowd.

_Oh what greatness…_ was the thought that nearly overwhelmed the Priest. Rallying to his men's side, the Emperor cast aside all pretense and took part in his people's torment. Hobb was once again assured he had made the right choice: Lord Ashram was a hero, in the greatest sense. Hobb watched his Emperor row rhythmically to the beat of the drum, the muscles in his back showing through the light tunic he wore. Hobb nodded to himself as he clasped his hands in front of him shortly. He then raised them in prayer.

"_Great Myrii, God of War and Virtue, give these brave men strength to move them forwards, to defeat the enemy that is exhaustion, thirst, and despair_," Hobb recited and began to steadily sing. The rowing became more synchronized as the men wondered at their newfound strength.

Pirotess looked about ready to burst, as it seemed she was debating on whether or not to join. Ashram gave himself the privilege of smirking, something he did not too often. "Pirotess," he called her. Her face quickly un-scrunched as she snapped to attention.

"Yes, sire?" she snapped.

"Go and sit in the crow's nest. You keep an eye on the land, and inform the captain of all changes, I don't want us plowing into rocks too far away from the actual land now," he stated. His hair quickly spilled over his broad shoulders and covered half of his face as he leaned forward, and back, forward, and back, rowing with the others. Pirotess bowed slightly and with a 'yes, sire', she disappeared above decks. Ashram felt a burning in his muscles already, as he rowed to the beat of the drum in the back of the room. The room smelled of sweat and salt and he wrinkled his fine-chiseled nose, but he said nothing. He gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead as he determinedly set for what could be a very long time of rowing.

Exactly how long it had been, Ashram could not tell, but his muscles said _too long_. Four of the oars had been pulled back in, as the rowers fainted, despite Hobb's aide. He had done his best to heal the first ones, but soon gave up, and returned to strengthening those still rowing as the numbers of fainted men increased. Ashram worried that he would be the next to lose consciousness, but he could _not_. He could _not _let himself fail when there where still others working. So he continued, even rowing with an extra burst of vigor. Just when his vision was going black, Pirotess darted in the doorway.

"The captain says to bring in the oars!" she said, and the men faltered at their pace.

"What?" Ashram gasped, as the men dropped their oars, and he felt his tendons tear when he suddenly found himself the only one holding the oar.

"We're too close to row in, sire. We'll go by the wind now," she explained and Ashram could not help but stare at the bearer of this news as the men tiredly pulled in the oars. He jumped a little when he realized he was blocking the way for his bench's oar. He quickly, well as quickly as possible, leapt up and cleared the way.

"We're close?" he could not help but repeat, looking at Pirotess. She nodded.

"You can come up and see," she said.

"Yes… I-" he stopped abruptly and made his way up to the decks. He gazed forwards dazedly, as he walked to the bow of the ship almost drunkenly. He practically collapsed upon the railing, but quickly regained his composure and just leaned upon it. "What the hell is this?" he muttered as he gazed forwards and up. A great wall that reached all the way to the sky greeted them.

"I do not know, sire," Pirotess muttered. She could see the despair in her Emperor's face blatantly.

"A wall. We find land… and we can't set foot on it, because of a god-damned wall!" he cried, his voice intensifying. "Why gods! What have we done! Why do you torture us!" he yelled and let himself fall upon the railing. His arms, shoulders, and back were painful and tingling. Pirotess ran to him and knelt at his side. She went to place a hand on him, but thought better of it. His face was burnt from exposure, and his hands were bleeding from the rough wood of the oar.

"Milord," she whispered and her eyes began to sting as she felt tears well up. The gods were cruel.

"All we want is land… is that so much to ask? A land where we aren't constantly hunted and killed. A land where we can live, work, and raise our families… is that _so_… _much_… to ask…" his voice shrank and his body shook. For a moment, Pirotess thought he was sobbing, then she realized he was seizing.

**Author's Note: **Well, sorry about how short this was... But don't worry, the next chapter is much longer! And sorry if Ashram seems a bit OOC, but they've been on ships out in the middle of nowhere for months... he's a bit stressed to say the least.


	3. Admittance

Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh

Additional Disclaimer: AND the stuff about dragons was shamelessly taken from Dr. Ernest Drake's: **Dragonolgy** Edited by Dugald A. Steer. I know, it's a hilarious book, but I felt I needed to use its otherwise useless and rather... funny (because it's so tongue-in-cheek) information.

Chapter Two

Admittance

"_I will give you land,"_ a voice snickered, and Ashram froze. His battered body and quivering muscles felt a chill in the humid air.

"What?" Ashram rasped. He ignored Pirotess who was grasping at his shoulders; he could barely feel them now anyway.

"_I will give you land,"_ the voice repeated.

"You will? _You will!_" Ashram cried. His newfound relief quickly disappeared and was replaced with suspicion. "What do you want?" a chuckle ran through Ashram's ears, but no one else seemed to notice it.

"_Only a minor sacrifice on your part… your body," _the voice stated. Ashram's eyes widened.

"What?"

"_Your body. It's not much to ask, when you consider what I'm offering. I will allow your people entrance to the land of the Gods! One life is not all too much to ask,"_ the voice explained. Ashram attempted to swallow, but his mouth and throat were bone-dry.

"Lord Ashram, Lord Ashram!" Pirotess cried as he stared vacantly at the wall, speaking to no one in particular.

"Yes – yes, you're right. I will. You can take my body. Just… let me save them… please…" for the first time in his life, Ashram begged.

"_As you wish, _Lord Ashram!" the voice boomed and the walls began to sink. People around him screeched and darted about as the receding walls created waves that rocked the ships.

"Lord Ashram!" he finally realized Pirotess was shaking him, and he tore his gaze from the wall. Her amber eyes stared at him silently as they roved over him with concern.

"Oh the wall! There's land!" came the cries and both Ashram and Pirotess turned their attention back to the turbulent waters in front of them. Just as the voice had promised, a pristine beach greeted them, and green mountains heralded lush valleys in the distance. The boats floated right up to the beach until they ran aground, and people began jumping over the railings to reach the shore. However, most waited for the smaller boats to be lowered.

Ashram was one of the latter. Hobb brought Ashram's armor and the Soul Crusher up from below decks, and with Pirotess' help, Ashram donned on the heavy armor once more. He almost melted right then and there, underneath the weight of his armor once more, but he held fast to the railing. He waited until most everyone else was on the shore before he eased himself over the railing and cautiously clamored down the rope ladder. The small rowboat shook when he dropped into it, and the Meadow Sprite, Marr, clutched the side of the boat. As Ashram settled into the back, he nodded to the sailors, and they pushed away from the dreary ship they had inhabited for so long.

When they reached the shore, Marr leapt out of the boat and took a handful of the sand and kissed it. Hobb was a little more reserved in giving thanks for reaching solid ground; he said a small prayer to Myrii. Ashram said nothing as his boots splashed in the crystal clear water and he left large footprints in the sparkling sand. His eyes scanned the lands, the mountaintops shone like gems, and lakes and rivers glittered like jewels among the lush foliage.

"Where _are _we?" someone asked.

"Lord Ashram…" Pirotess murmured. Ashram straightened as the wind blew black his hair and his cape.

"We have been granted the rights to this land by the gods," Ashram proclaimed. "Pirotess," Ashram called without turning to her.

"Yes, sire?"

"You Dark Elves are some of our fastest scouts. I want you to take a small group and scout the area, search for fresh water. Water is our greatest priority right now," Ashram ordered and Pirotess bowed.

"Yes, sire," she said and disappeared towards the other ships. Ashram turned to the people around him; most of those on his ship were soldiers.

"Now, I know you are weak, I know you are tired, and I know you are thirsty, but first things first: we must assist the others," he stated and pointed towards the ships approaching. "We are the first to set foot on this sacred land, but there are many others behind us. Your wives, your children, your parents, they are all behind us, and require our aide. I want groups to get back on the row boats," a collective groan from the men sounded here. "I _said_, I want groups to _get back on the row boats_! To help lead the other ships to safe harbor and unload the passengers," Ashram roared. "Those who stay on shore will help unload the boats and set up shelters at the beach's tree line," he said. Ashram began towards the boats. "I will be assisting the ships," he added, and the men that had been sullenly climbing in the boats brightened. He heaved himself, armor and all, into a boat with several other men; he recognized one of them as having served under him in the Royal Guard. He looked around at the men watching him expectantly as they shoved off from the shore. He chewed on his lip a bit before addressing them. "No need to worry: the worst is behind us."

It was not long before they came across the first wave of ragged ships. They had not yet pulled in their oars, but they were moving slowly. Ashram stood, unsheathed the Demon Sword, and held it up. It glinted menacingly in the sunlight, and there was an impregnated pause as the men in the row boat watched people line the railings of the nearby ships. A man in frayed gray robes pushed his way through the crowd and leaned over the railing.

"Lord Ashram!" he cried.

"Groder!" Ashram replied while sheathing his sword. "Your rowers are slow," Ashram stated. Groder did not smile, and Ashram did not expect him to.

"Master," was all Groder said. Ashram shook his head.

"We have struck land; it is perfectly visible from here. Pull in your oars and ride the current to the shore. I have men waiting to assist you," Ashram explained and the former sorcerer nodded. Groder shifted and appeared to shout out orders down below. He seemed to remember something, and returned his attention back to Ashram.

"Sire?" he called.

"What is it, Groder?"

"Where are you going?" Groder eyed the path the rowboat was on; it was the opposite of the ship.

"Just going to bring in the other ships," Ashram replied. "Go on," he waved Groder away. "We won't go out too far," Ashram consoled, noting the distraught looks on his follower's face.

"Yes, sire," Groder nodded, and disappeared within the crowd. When Ashram looked back at the ships the small row boat past, he noted they indeed pulled in their oars and were moving steadily towards the beach.

By the time the sun began to set, the men on the rowboat were more than exhausted, and Ashram reluctantly gave the order to turn around. They had only met eighteen ships. It was practically dark when the small fleet of rowboats Ashram had taken with him came ashore again. It was only because of the light of the fires set upon the beach that they were sure of how to return. Ashram cursed himself for his recklessness. He could have easily gotten his men lost out at sea on those tiny boats. The men were practically ecstatic to set foot on solid ground again.

Ashram strode to the row of signal bonfires and saw several tents created from the sails and even more lean-to's made from palms lining the tree line. He saw crates upon crates of belongings and supplies, but what caught his eye the most, was a long log flattened into a makeshift table and covered in exotic fruits. He barely kept his jaw from dropping, but his men were not so reserved. They yelped in surprised and dashed over with more energy than he thought they had. People around the table chastised them and warned them not to eat so fast. Too much food after such a long period of starvation would make them sick. Ashram remained by the fire. Pirotess emerged from the foliage and scurried up to him, with Groder following close behind.

"Lord Ashram," she said and curtly bowed. "Thank the gods you are safe. We were beginning to worry you would not find your way back," Ashram stared at her for a moment before looking back to the fire.

"Who's idea was this? The fires?" he asked nonchalantly. Groder started, and stepped forwards.

"Mine, sire. I thought… if the fires were large and numerous enough you would be able to see them from a great distance," he stated with a bow. Ashram nodded.

"Good thinking," he said. "You saved our lives," and with than Ashram walked over to join his men. One of them offered him a water goblet and Ashram graciously accepted, but drank with restraint. He reached for one of the fruits.

"_Yes, I'm sure you'd like the star fruit, I know it's one of _my_ favorites,"_ the voice laughed. Ashram's hand jerked back and his spine straightened. _"What, did you think I had left you? No, _Lord Ashram,_ I am still here. I will always be here,"_ the voice stated menacingly.

_I-I need more time, I cannot leave them yet…_ Ashram thought, his eyes burning through the forest, searching for the source of the voice.

"_More time then? All right, I can wait. I am patient. I've waited thousands of years, I suppose I can wait a little longer for a sacrifice…"_ the voice conceded and Ashram's eyes widened.

_You can hear me?_ he thought and a deep, throaty laugh resounded.

"_Of course, I _am _speaking to your mind, after all."_

_My mind…?_

"_Yes, why do you think no one else hears me?" _came the laughing voice.

_I - who are you?_ beads of sweat began to form on Ashram's forehead.

"_My name is Barbas. I am the King of Gods! And this is _my _land, Crystania, the land of the Gods,"_ the voice, Barbas, proclaimed.

"Crystania…" Ashram muttered.

"My Lord Ashram… Lord Ashram!" Pirotess had her hands on his shoulders again. He started a little when he realized this, quickly shrugged her off, and proceeded to glare at her. It took he a moment, but he soon realized he was also on his knees. The goblet spilled on the ground in front of him.

"Lord Ashram! Are you all right, sire!" Groder was close by, but did not shame the emperor and offer to help him up. Ashram slowly stood by himself, flicking his cape in Pirotess' direction. She hopped a few feet back, to avoid being slapped by the heavy cloth. Ashram dusted himself off.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was just taken by a sudden fit of fatigue, that's all," Ashram shook his head slightly. He did not wait for either of his followers to speak. "How is everything? Are all of the supplies unloaded?"

Groder blinked. "Yes, sire," he stammered. "And everyone has settled into temporary shelters for tonight. We have already pitched your tent, sire," he bowed slightly.

"Ah, I believe I will go there now," Ashram sighed.

"Please follow me then, sire," Groder nodded and led Ashram into the forest, with Pirotess a few steps behind. The sound of the ocean surf was the dominant sound in the forest, but the yowls and echoes of feral creatures ricocheted off the trees. Three tents were pitched within a small clearing, the largest was the farthest back. Groder held open the flap to this one, and Ashram ducked his head to step inside. It was not much, dirt floor, a wooden chair, sparse table, and cot. Ashram withheld a groan as he settled into the wooden chair. His slender eyebrows furrowed when Groder walked out and Pirotess took his place.

"You want something?" he growled. Ashram noticed she looked a bit hurt, but only leaned farther into his chair.

"I took a group of Dark Elves out scouting earlier, as you ordered, your Highness," she gave a shallow bow.

"And?" Ashram murmured. His upper body was no longer numb; instead it burned, and ached with every move. He gingerly touched his nose and winced, his normally fair skin was burnt and dry. He returned his arm to the chair.

"Permission to give our report, sire?"

"Permission granted."

"We found several creeks stemming from a major river within walking distance to the north of here. All land we came across was covered in forest or fertile plains. There are several indigenous species already identified. Most seem docile and no threat. There are many birds, over fifteen species counted so far; none of them coincide with those of Lodoss, or Marmo. We have identified a herd of wild horses, tall in stature of about 16 hands with sturdy legs and a strong hind-quarters: possibly good candidates for war-horses if tamable. A string of mountains obstructs the path inland from here. We did not scout the mountains; they are a safe enough distance away. And sire?"

"Yes?" Ashram sighed. He was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.

"Elensar would like to speak with you," she said.

"Elensar?" he repeated.

"Yes, sire. He was one of the Dark Elves that accompanied me on the scouting mission," she answered. Ashram paused. He _knew _he recognized that name from somewhere else.

"Your cousin," he remembered and he saw her blush.

"Yes… sire."

"Hmph. What does he want?"

"I do not know, sire, but he seemed to believe it was of the utmost importance," Pirotess stated. Ashram rubbed the back of his neck and absently tugged at his the knotted mess that was his hair.

"Fine, very well, tell him to hurry up," he conceded. Pirotess nodded and bowed out of the tent. Ashram's hand became entangled in his hair. He growled as he struggled to untangle his hair somewhat. Studying the mess, it became clear this could be a problem. He momentarily declared a draw, and placed his hand back upon the armrest. The flap to his tent was cautiously swept aside and a rather emaciated Dark Elf walked in. His prominent cheeks were hollow, but his golden eyes were still sharp. Red tattoos marred the man's face, neck, chest, arms and hands. A silver circlet was wrapped around his forehead, with jewels dangling before his pointed ears. His lithe limbs were stiff as he bowed low to Ashram.

"Sire," the Dark Elf addressed him.

"What is it you wish to tell me, Dark Elf?" Ashram asked, in one of his official voices.

"Sire, my name is Elensar," the Dark Elf stated, and Ashram did not interrupt to say he already knew that. "I was with the scouting party while you were away, and I discovered something most disconcerting," he said quite self-importantly. Ashram arched an eyebrow.

"Well then, what is it?"

"Dragons. There are dragons here. Not ancient dragons at least, but even normal dragons are strong enough to be incredibly dangerous," Elensar explained and Ashram felt his other eyebrow move to match the other's height.

"Dragons? Why did Pirotess not tell me? She was the leader of the group, I believe," Ashram's chin rose a bit. Elensar blinked a little, but then raised his gaze from the ground to meet Ashram's.

"Because she did not see them. Actually, I did not see them either."

"Then how do you know they are there? Don't waste my time Dark Elf," Ashram growled.

"I… I am a Student of Dragon Lore, sire."

"A Dragon Master? Why was I not aware of this?" Ashram sat up straighter.

"Oh, I am not a Dragon Master, sire, I am yet a student. I haven't the power to control dragons for a long period of time," Elensar dropped his gaze.

"Who taught you?" Ashram narrowed his eyes.

"He… he is dead, sire," Elensar said.

"That does not answer my question."

"I cannot say. I am a member of the Society of the Drake. We are supposed to remain in isolation, and anonymity," Elensar explained and Ashram noticed the Dark Elf 'student of Dragon Lore' began to sweat.

"And yet you are telling me now," Ashram muttered. Elensar's eyes widened a fraction before narrowing again.

"Yes, sire. The… the Society of the Drake was stationed on Marmo…"

"Ah, I see," Ashram leaned back. "So, what do you propose we do with these dragons that we cannot see?"

"The _Draco Occidentalis Magnus_ is a man-eater, sire," Elensar paused. "Luckily, the _Occidentalis Magnus_ lives in only remote locations, namely the mountains to the north."

"I asked for suggestions, not lectures, Elensar," Ashram snapped irritably. The poor Dark Elf jumped. For a moment Ashram thought he should have told Pirotess he would see the young Dark Elf in the morning, when Ashram was better rested. He was terrible when he was in a foul mood.

"Oh, yes, forgive me, sire," he quickly apologized, moving down on one knee. "As a member of the Society of the Drake… I am obliged to tell you to leave them at peace… but as a Marmo citizen, and a faithful subject of yours, I suggest that we hunt the _Occidentalis Magnus_ in the mountains, so they will not have the pleasure of pillaging whatever villages we might build."

"Interesting developments," Ashram muttered.

"Sire?" Elensar's ear's perked as he tilted his head. Ashram shook his.

"Elensar, what type of dragons do the Dragon Riders of Highland tame?"

"The _Magnus_, sire."

"The man-eating ones?" Ashram asked skeptically.

"Yes, sire. The Dragon Riders of Highland hand-rear them … although some prove untamable still," Elensar explained. Ashram paused, and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He waved a hand.

"Never mind, I will pursue this later. Nothing can be done as of now," Ashram growled.

"Sire, do you… want to tame the dragons?" the Dark Elf braved and Ashram narrowed his eyes.

"I was contemplating it. But for now, we will satisfy ourselves with creating a settlement," Ashram said guardedly. Elensar nodded.

"Yes, sire," he said quietly.

"I will take care of the… _Magnus _problem soon enough. But right now, we _all _need rest," Ashram stated and the Dark Elf nodded again. "Go now. Leave me," Ashram pointed to the flap.

"Yes, sire," Elensar bowed and left. Ashram stretched and debated taking off his armor. He was just reaching for the latch on his cloak when he heard someone outside his tent. He unsheathed the Soul Crusher in a split second and he spun to face the entrance. Pirotess drew the flap and Ashram growled aloud.

"I'll kill you next time, you know that?" he warned.

"Should I announce myself?" she countered, and he remained silent as he sheathed his the Soul Crusher. "I'll take that as a no, sire," she said with a small smirk. "I just wanted to let you know that several soldiers have already slept, and are taking turns on guard duty. You needn't worry," Pirotess said, with a wrinkle of her nose. Ashram turned away, and discarded his cloak upon the chair. He stretched a bit as he reached to unclasp his armor. He winced as the muscles in his shoulders strained against the movement. "Please, allow me, sire," Pirotess approached him. He tensed as she undid the buckles at his ribs, but when the great weight lifted from his shoulders as she removed the armor and placed it by the chair, he found it hard to find fault in her assistance. He turned to her and regarded her with cool gray eyes. Her amber ones stared back. They regarded each other for a tense moment, in Ashram's opinion, before he spoke again.

"Alright. I expect to know everything that occurred while I was out and while I was asleep, tomorrow morning."

"Of course, sire," Pirotess smiled.

"You are _dismissed_," he finally managed to rasp out. She bowed and disappeared, leaving him alone with his thoughts, as he collapsed upon the cot, praying he would be blessed with a dreamless sleep. His eyebrows furrowed. He was never that lucky.

**Author's Note:** Mwahaha, this was much longer, right? Barbas makes his appearance! gasp And Pirotess has a cousin? Well, all the Dark Elves are actually related, someway or the other. They are one big happy family (okay, maybe that's stretching it a bit) but still, the Dark Elves consider themselves all related, even if they aren't by blood. Or at least they do in my world. And you have entered my word. So there. :-p Tehe.

I've also heard that is no longer allowing us (namely the writers) respond to reviews in the chapters... this makes me sad, but I'm going to stop responding just in case. I will continue to read the reviews, as I love my readers and even more so my reviewers. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (second chapter, third installment).

And I just found a bunch of mistakes and attempted to fix them…


	4. Fire and Water

Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh

Chapter Three

Fire and Water

Plagued by nightmares, Ashram found little peace in sleep. However, he was awoken by a ruckus outside. He reluctantly opened his eyes and went to sit up. He was unable to bite back a cry as stabbing pains shot through his back and torso. One of the hurried footsteps and raised voices threw back the tent flap in haste. Pirotess darted in.

"Lord Ashram! Are you all right? I heard you shout…" her saber was drawn and she stalked about the tent. Ashram clenched his teeth and strained upright, muttering curses.

"I'm fine!" he spat. "It's nothing. Go away," he added as she turned to him.

"Oh?" she murmured. "My apologies for intruding then, sire," she bowed and left, all the while, her sharp golden eyes trained on him. Ashram growled, placing his head in his hands. After steeling his will, he stood and after several minutes of stretching his painful muscles, he started donning on his pitch-black armor.

_Dragons_. Every time he needed something, _dragons _were in the way. He sighed. He had slain dragons before, and he would do it again, but he had best not get overconfident, he thought. He reached a hand up to his hair and grimaced at the mess. He did not have a comb, or a brush. He did not exactly think about hair care, when he was evacuating Marmo. Instead he ran his still ungloved fingers through the knots, straightening it as much as he could, but it was still dirty. Actually, he was just filthy period. Attaching the Soul Crusher to his belt, he made his way out of his tent. He paused after pushing aside the flap to his tent. The clearing was busy; people were running to-and-fro carrying crates. Ashram walked over to Groder who was standing by a stack of crates, apparently directing people.

"What's going on?" Ashram asked when he stopped by the former sorcerer.

"Sire, you're up," Groder turned to him.

"Yes Groder, now what's going on?" Ashram repeated.

"Oh, we're moving the supplies from the shore. The tide is coming up farther than we expected," Groder explained.

"Ah," Ashram muttered. "Good work," he said. "Have any surveying teams gone out yet today?" Ashram began back towards the beach and Groder fell into step behind him.

"Yes, sire. Pirotess led a group of Dark Elves early this morning," he reported.

"And what did they find?" Ashram asked.

"There are great plains to the northeast, at the foot of the mountains; it seems to be promising farmland," Groder reported and Ashram nodded as they reached the beach. Indeed, the waves were lapping up to the vicinity of the crates, but there were very few left; Ashram noted that Groder was yet again proving his capability.

"Good. How are the people faring?" Ashram looked around, watching the men move the crates and the women maintain them.

"Very well, sire!" Groder exclaimed. "We are regaining our strength very quickly! I actually have a theory that there's something about the fruit that grows here, milord…"

"Really? What is that?" Ashram glanced at the pale gray sorcerer.

"I think… Lord Ashram, you said this was the land of the Gods… I think there is some magical properties to the flora that grows here. Our people are gaining their strength far too quickly for this to be normal, not that I'm complaining," Groder smirked.

"Hm… healing fruit?" Ashram murmured as he ambled over to the same makeshift table, which now held a new supply of fresh fruit. He picked up one of the star-shaped fruit. "These ones?" he held it up to Groder, who nodded with a 'yes, sire'. Ashram's eyes narrowed. This was the same type of fruit the voice, Barbas, had so amusedly said was his favorite. Perhaps there was a reason it was the King of Gods' favorite fruit. "You're sure it's not poison or anything," Ashram asked, turning back to the sorcerer. "Perhaps it has some negative effects?"

"We have not found any ill-effects, milord. And Pirotess tested each type of fruit for poisons; they were all negative, sire," Groder assured the Black Knight, who then took a small bite of the oddly shaped fruit. It was a bit tart, but pleasant enough. Groder was still standing at his side by the time Ashram had finished the fruit and went for a second. He stopped before biting into the next one. He looked back at the sorcerer.

"Is there something want to tell me?" he asked and Groder jumped a little. He gave a small bow.

"Yes, sire, I just thought it might please you to know that there is a small secluded pond were you can bathe before you start up for the day," Groder stated. Ashram's eyebrows rose.

"Ah, that sounds wonderful," he muttered with a small smile. Groder's own face broke into a wide smile when he saw.

"I thought you might like it. There are actually several places for bathing, but we have sealed off a particularly nice section for the higher ranking officials," he explained. "There's actually a path past your tent to the water. If you follow it upstream for a ways you will find a small tent, which marks the bathing grounds," he directed, and Ashram finished his third fruit.

"Thank you, Groder, I believe I will do that," he stated but paused. "Hm… did we unload the weapons and maintenance supplies?" Ashram asked and Groder bowed.

"Yes, milord," he answered.

"Well then, would you fetch me a stiff brush, oil, and rags so I can clean my armor?" Ashram requested. It really was more of an order, but he was feeling rather lenient now.

"Of course, sire. I will be back momentarily," he replied with a bow and walked off onto a path in the forests, quickly disappearing through the trees. Ashram helped himself to a goblet of water and then stopped himself. His eyes narrowed in suspicion again. The food was too good.

"_Oh come on now, stop being so paranoid. It's fruit. It's not addicting,"_ Barbas' voice laughed and Ashram nearly jumped.

_Must you always surprise me? _Ashram thought agitatedly.

"_That's no way to speak to me," _Barbas' voice was no longer laughing; instead it was low and menacing. _"I'm being nice to you. I'm letting you keep your life for the time being. I'm letting you live on my land. I'm letting you eat my food,"_ Barbas growled. Ashram was beginning to sweat. He stepped away from the table, attempting to avoid the prying stares of humans and Dark Elves alike. _"I am _Barbas! _King of the Gods! I could take your life right now!_ Lord _Ashram_!_ HAHAHA! You should show some respect."_

_Forgive me, I didn't mean such disrespect,_ Ashram thought while backing into the dark trees. _You must understand, we have been under a terrible strain… I…_

"_You have a lot on your mind, that's it, right _Lord _Ashram?" _the voice chuckled.

_I… forgive me,_ Ashram gulped. He could not afford to die now, he still needed to rid the land of those dragons, and he needed to oversee the construction of the settlement. He still had so much more to do. Barbas laughed again. _He _seemed to be enjoying Ashram's torment.

"_Do not fear, Ashram. I will spare your life for now,"_ Barbas cooed. _"In fact, why don't we make a pact of a sort?" _

_A pact? What sort of pact?_ Ashram thought.

"_I will give you a certain amount in time, in which I will leave you be, and you will be able to work with your precious little people to your heart's content. Then, when the time comes, you will give me your life,"_ Barbas proposed.

_How long?_

"_A year,"_ Barbas stated flatly. Ashram took in a deep breath. A year. Was it possible to create a settlement in a year? Could he do everything he needed to in a year? He closed his eyes.

_Alright,_ Ashram agreed and Barbas' confident voice laughed again.

"_Good, you know better than to argue with me. I would have just shortened the time period to six months, if you had," _he laughed and Ashram bit his lip so hard the coppery taste of blood soiled his mouth. There was no lingering taste of the tart star fruit. _"All right then, Ashram. You have one year to wrap up your life. Fare thee well,_" the echoing laugh was all Ashram could hear for a few moments. He was still shaking his head and covering his ears when Groder pushed back the bushes.

"Milord? Are you all right? Did the star fruit not work for you?" Ashram chewed on his lip as he stepped past the sorcerer, out into the light. He never noticed before how many questions his trusted ally asked. Or perhaps this was a recent development. Ashram pushed the thought aside.

"I was just standing in the shade. I prefer not to stay out in the sun for so long," Ashram practically pointed to his burnt skin. Groder, who had similar pale skin, wore a hood, so he did not have the same problem as his master.

"Ah, I see, sire," Groder stated, a bit flushed at the triviality of the answer. "Here are the cleaning supplies for you, sire!" he quickly remembered and thrust his hands out in front of him, clasping a bag. Ashram took it from him. "Are you sure you don't want to have one of our smithies do it for you, sire?" Groder called, as Ashram turned back towards his tent.

"No, Groder, I like to take care of myself," Ashram stated with a small smile and glinting eyes. He made off towards the tents, passing several people hard at work restoring crates and going through the supplies. He supposed he should be a little thankful to Groder and Pirotess. They were only worried about him. The only thing was, it insinuated weakness. Not too long ago, Ashram would not have tolerated the thought, and would have immediately punished the person for even thinking it. He could not afford to be weak then. Although he did not think he could now, either. He just could not seem to make them stop asking him. He grimaced as he past the tents and brushed through the forest, pushing back the shrubs. Next time he would give whoever happened to insult him again a good talking-to about how the _emperor _was just fine and was only _annoyed _when they continued to pester him about it. Yes, he would do that. The sound of trickling water met his ears long before he came unto the crystal clear water. He paused a minute, for he was startled by the sheer beauty of the water. It was clearer than any water he had ever seen before, and the pebbles at the bottom of the riverbed shone and sparkled through the water.

Ashram spotted the tent and calmly walked inside, freeing the tent flap to close seal the tent. Setting aside his armor and sword aside, he dropped the bag full of brushes, oils, and rags onto the ground. Within moments he was in the water, washing the dirt and salty grime from himself. He took a small bar of soap from the tent and wash soon finished washing. He dropped his clothes in the water and scrubbed them with the same soap as well. The crystal clear water washed away the grime and Ashram watched as the dirt was swept down stream. He hung up the soggy clothes on a branch and settled back down in the water. He smirked to himself as he took one of the brushes from the bag. Of course it was a brush made for picking out little pieces of dirt from the crevices of armor, but it would work on hair too. He divided his hair into manageable sections, and began to brush his way through, and scrubbing soap into it.

When his long black hair was straight and tangle-free, and his clothes were dry enough. He stepped out of the water and back into the tent, wringing out his hair and letting the water drip off. He slid into his clean clothes and studied the frayed seams. Well, they would have to do, clothes would be taken care of _after _homes were built. He then knelt next to his armor. It was incredibly filthy. The salt from the water in the very air had condensed in the cracks. He slathered the armor in water, and began picking away at the cracks. Once the surface was no longer brittle with caked-on salt, Ashram went over it with a rag moistened with oil, smoothing over the cracks and greasing the joints. After letting the oil and grease soak into the metal and leather, Ashram donned it on once more. It was nice to no longer have the grains of sand and salt scraping against his skin.

He pushed open the flap to the tent and latched it on the side, taking the bag of brushes, oils and rags with him. After dropping off the bag in his own tent, he returned to the clearing where the crates had been stacked. Just as he had expected, he found Groder directing several workers.

"Groder!" Ashram called as he strode towards the gray sorcerer.

"Ah, milord Ashram, I trust you are feeling better?" came the response. Ashram stopped in his tracks and his eyebrow twitched a bit. To tell-off, or not to tell-off? Ashram sighed and continued to the circle of men.

"Yes, much refreshed," Ashram stated. "Now, I want a team formed," he ordered, glancing about. "Groder, you stay here. Without your sorcery this will be too dangerous for you. However, where is Pirotess?" Ashram asked.

"Sire, she's out with a group of Dark Elf scouts. They are checking the plains and setting stakes for the property lines," Groder answered and Ashram adapted his mental plan.

"Alright," he breathed. "Where is Priest Hobb?"

"With the families, sire."

"Groder…" Ashram shifted his weight onto one foot as he gazed at the soldiers meandering meaningfully about the crates. "Do you know of any skilled sorcerers among the ranks? They would come in handy against the dragons," poor Groder looked like he had seen a ghost.

"D-dragons? Sire, you mean to fight _dragons? _Again? Milord, please, you remember-"

"Yes, Groder! I remember Fire Dragon Mountain well enough, but that was an ancient dragon, and it wasn't even the dragon that… well, it had nothing to do with the dragon!" Ashram was growing frustrated again. "Anyway, are there any other sorcerers or not?" Ashram almost stomped his foot in impatience as he stared down the former sorcerer.

"There – there are Dark Elves… their shamanistic magic could be of some use," Groder stuttered. "But, I'm afraid we're fresh out of human sorcerers," Groder managed to report rather evenly, although his face appeared mangled with emotion. Ashram wanted to turn away, but decided it was best to deal with it now, instead of letting it simmer. It was barely ten seconds before Groder burst out: "Milord, I'm so sorry! If I only still had my magic I would not be such a trouble! You would not be without a sorcerer and vulnerable to magic! Please! Let me petition the Council! They will understand now! They must realize, if I had let you die, we would never have gotten away from Marmo, we would never have-"

"Set out on an insane voyage to a land that we did not know exist. We would never have lost eight shiploads of people – men, woman, and children – we would not have lost Kanan," Ashram interrupted, and Groder looked taken aback. "Groder, I appreciate your loyalty, but you are blind to my faults. I am not," he snapped. "I doubt the council will grant you your powers again so soon, but go ahead, petition. But I don't want it to get in the way of your duties! You are my administrator," Ashram tapped the gray man's shoulder. "Even without your sorcery, you are always of use, never forget it," he stated a bit softer, watching Groder soak up the words as he spoke them. "No one is useless," Ashram added and stepped away.

"Yes-yes milord…" Groder choked out, "thank you. I will go to the Council right away!" he bowed and scurried off. Ashram paused before making his way to the family camp. He should probably pay the Marmo Council a visit sometime soon. He shook his head and began at a brisk walk towards the family camp; the Council could wait. He came across the Priest of Myrii healing a boy who had scraped his knees and hands. Ashram let him finish. When the boy turned around and saw Ashram standing there, his eyes became nearly as large as dinner plates.

"L-L-L-Lord Ashram!" he cried in surprise, and the Black Knight gave a small nod in acknowledgement as several of the surrounding women and children quickly turned to stare.

"Pardon the interruption, but I am afraid I must whisk away Priest Hobb, young one," Ashram said in his nicest voice possible. It would do no good to scare the boy any more out of his wits than he already had.

"Ah-Ah-Ah…" was all the poor boy could stutter. Hobb put his hands on the stammering boy's shoulder. The boy nearly jumped in the air and looked up at the Priest.

"Why don't you return to your mother, son? It seems my abilities are needed elsewhere," Hobb smiled down at the boy who absent-mindedly nodded and ran off to one of the women in the crowd. "What can I do for you, milord?" the stout priest asked and Ashram began walking through the camp. The priest fell into step behind him almost automatically now.

"I would like you to accompany myself and a small party. We are going to make sure the plains are safe to settle," Ashram said as they reached the other edge of the forest. He stopped and gazed across the rolling plains.

"Of course, sire," Hobb replied. Ashram almost shook his head; the man's loyalty to him was great, but his almost hero-worship was greater. The more he thought about it, the more Ashram realized that to his closest followers, he could do no wrong. That made him uncomfortable. He had made too many mistakes already for them to be so blind. Ashram scanned the plains and saw flashes of shadow darting towards them. His ever-constant guard tightened, but he refrained from drawing his sword. Pirotess led the group of Dark Elves towards him.

"Milord!" she called, as the group of five Dark Elves bowed on one knee to him.

"Pirotess," he replied, lifting his chin. His gray eyes moved to the young Elf beside her; it was Elensar. "Anything sign of enemies?" he asked.

"No, sire. The plains seem only to be inhabited by wild horses, birds, some gophers, and a few birds of prey," Pirotess reported, still on one knee. Ashram didn't move his eyes from the young student of Dragon Lore.

"What about you? Did you see, or sense anything?" he asked the young Dark Elf. Elensar's eyes widened at being directly addressed, but he soon refocused them on the ground.

"Towards the mountains, sire," he replied curtly, and Pirotess shot him a rather angry and confused look. Apparently, he had not told her of his discovery.

"Tell me, Elensar, all Dark Elves are trained in combat, and shamanistic magic, are they not?" Ashram folded his hands behind his back.

"Y-yes, sire."

"What are you trained in?" Ashram asked curtly and the poor Dark Elf looked like he was about to dissolve.

"Lance-combat… shamanistic magic, of course… and… and dragon magic, sire," Elensar finally stated. He seemed to at least try to ignore the blatant stares of his fellow Dark Elves. Ashram took it all in-stride.

"Ah, so, what can dragon magic do?"

"It… well, it can do many things sire… It can make one immune to dragon fire for three hours… It can turn things invisible… it can summon the power of dragons or the dragons themselves…"

"Is it anything like elemental magic?"

"Well, yes, it can call upon the power of a fire dragon, or a water dragon, and it will effectively become a fire or water spell."

"Good, you're coming with us then," Ashram stated abruptly. "Pirotess, you too. The rest of you are dismissed," he waved them away and they swiftly dispersed. Pirotess stood with a look somewhere in between confusion and jealous pinned upon her pretty face. Elensar appeared rooted to the spot. Pirotess waited for Ashram to continue, but when he didn't, she turned to her cousin.

"_Dragon magic!_" she squealed. "So that's where you've been," she huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"I – you – uh," he stammered as he got to his feet. Ashram looked the young Elf up and down. He was naturally scrawny, it appeared, that much was evident even aside from the trip they had just endured. Ashram studied him for a second longer. His Elven tunic and breeches were covered with a vest and loincloth of some scaled material that Ashram had the suspicion was dragon hide.

"You don't seem to be the Dragon Master-type," Ashram stated flatly and the Dark Elf boy looked a bit discouraged and Ashram leapt at it. "Like that, you don't seem brave enough," Ashram shifted a bit, glancing at Hobb, "I've never known such a timid Dark Elf," he called over his shoulder and Pirotess looked absolutely appalled.

"Sire!" she interrupted, stepping in front of her cousin with a bow. "Please, Elensar is still young. After all, what exactly do we know about this… _dragon magic_? Nothing, please, let us get another sorcerer, surely-"

"There are no other sorcerers, Pirotess," Ashram stared at her. "If we will not use his dragon magic, then perhaps his shamanistic magic will be of more use," he added.

"Sire, _I_ can do that."

"Yes, but I want you in the melee with me," he said and immediately regretted his choice of words. The blush on her face was enough to make him want to turn back time. He _really _did not need to encourage her. He did not have time for it. "_I _don't want to be the only one taking hits," he quickly added and a wave of understanding seemed to wash over the three around him. Of course, that made sense. The emperor could not have himself being killed first. Elensar gulped. "Don't worry too much," Ashram said as he started out into the plains. "It will only cloud your judgement. Actually, before we go," Ashram turned to Hobb. "Ask the great god Myrii to strengthen our resolve and steel our wills, that should help him a bit."

"Of course," Hobb bowed to Ashram then raised his hands in prayer. Ashram watched the young Dark Elf as he suddenly found himself feeling thrice as confident in his strength as he had two seconds before.

"There," Ashram said with a ghost of a smile. "I believe we are ready to go find those dragons now, aren't we?" and after noting an affirmative nod from each of them, he began the trek to the mountains on the other side of the plains.

**Author's Note:** Okay, who saw thereference to Record of Lodoss War: Welcome to Lodoss Island! Tehe. Alright, and I know Ashram seems a little OOC, and rather emotional... but keep in mind all that he's been through: he led his people on an expedition in which he lost several shiploads of men, women and children, because of this he has begun to doubt his own capability. Of course, he already was a changed man after the incident at Fire Dragon Mountain, of that much we can be sure. So, all of this change is rather disconcerting to him.

Then there's the fact that Pirotess is continually um... well, too loyal to him. I guess that's one way to put it. I am in favor of their relationship, but they just don't up and say 'I love you!'. Dark Elves believe themselves better than humans, if a human, even Lord Ashram, were to court Pirotess, the Dark Elves would not support it, well... not without good reason. Let's just say, Ashram and Pirotess' relationship is very risky. Ashram knows it, and he doesn't want to encourage Pirotess' feelings, but he can't outright spurn her, because he doesn't have the heart. That is the very same reason he doesn't quite know how to handle her.

Then there's Groder... ugh. He sacrificed his sorcery in order to save Ashram, and now, I guess you could say he is a bit overzealous in protecting his emperor.

Then there's also the fact that he now has a disembodied voice taunting him in his head.

Whoohoo. And all of this leads up to a rather emotional, confused, and rather OOC Ashram. And okay, this is a very long Author's Note... Buh-Bye now!


	5. Fragility

Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh

Chapter Four

Fragility

It took the party of four two days and a half to travel the expanse of the plains. No one said anything, but it was because of the two humans. Dark Elves were known for their speed - humans were not. Ashram was admittedly not slow, and he could keep up with most Dark Elves in battle, but in an all out race, he had no chance (unless of course he managed to trip the Dark Elf, but he hadn't done that since his adolescence). Hobb, on the other hand, was no athlete and the party is only as strong as it's weakest link, or in this case: as fast as it's slowest, which was rather slow.

Now, they paused at the foot of the mountain range, where the tall grass began to recede and rocks began to litter the ground. They waited for Hobb to catch up, and he slumped a bit, placing his hands on his knees as he panted for breath; his robes were a bit too heavy. Ashram placed one foot atop a nearby rock, and rested his arm on his leg while he glanced about, taking his surroundings and checking on his teammates. The sun was indeed as hot as it was out on the ocean; it was hotter here than Lodoss, that was for sure. He was amazed the whole place wasn't a desert with this heat.

"Sire?" Pirotess called from ahead. She spun around to face the three men behind her. "Doesn't it seem a bit warm?"

"I was just thinking that," he settled for saying.

"A _bit _warm, she says," Elensar whined, walking up to his cousin. "Yes, just a bit," he scoffed dryly. He then stopped dead in his tracks with unblinking eyes and perked ears. "Of course, a bit warm…" he murmured. "Come on, we need to get higher up! Faster!" he ordered abruptly and took off. Really, he took off. His feet moved so fast as he leapt from rock to rock that they seemed almost blurred, and the very lines of his body seemed to bend, and fragment.

"Hey, don't lose the humans!" Pirotess yelled after him as she started to follow, albeit a bit slower. Ashram gritted his teeth and sprinted, well as much as one can sprint in a heavy cloak and armor after the two Dark Elves.

"Ah," Hobb gasped as he struggled to keep up.

"Elensar, slow down!" Pirotess was growing angry, and Ashram was getting frustrated. The two of them were almost insufferable. Pirotess was usually so reserved and in control of herself. Perhaps working with her younger cousin was a bit much for her. Perhaps… ah, he didn't have the time to think of it now, as he scaled the path to the mountain pass. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Hobb was a considerable distance back; this was not preferable.

"Elensar!" he did not shout. He almost never shouted. That would insinuate he had lost control. He just called rather loudly. The young Dark Elf stopped and pivoted on one foot.

"Ah, yes sire?" he called, almost as if out of a daze.

"Hold there, we're losing Hobb."

"Ah? Oh, forgive me sire, but I realized we are very close."

"Very close? To the dragon?"

"Dragons, sire."

"Plural dragons?" Pirotess intruded as Ashram finally reached the two Dark Elves. Hobb was still a way back.

"Yes, there were signs everywhere. I just didn't put two and two together. It was so stupid of me," he stomped, "forgive me sire," the tattooed Dark Elf begged of the Emperor.

"How close?" Ashram ignored it.

"Very, within a mile, if my estimations are correct," Elensar replied and Hobb finally reached them.

"Sire, I'm so sorry," the Priest gasped in between breaths. _Would people please stop apologizing to me?_ Ashram thought.

"It wasn't your fault," Ashram stated, looking at neither the Priest nor the guilty Dark Elf; but he saw Elensar shift uneasily out of the corner of his eye. "Elensar says we are getting close to the dragons; stay close," he ordered and Hobb straightened with a determined nod. "Elensar," Ashram said flatly as he stepped to the front of the group. "We're going to the mountain pass, correct?"

"Yes sire, there are caves there in which the dragons most likely reside," the Dark Elf explained oh-so matter-of-factly. This Dark Elf had apparently spent too much time inside a study. He spoke nothing like a normal inhabitant of Marmo.

"Fine then, follow me," Ashram ordered and began towards the pass once again, this time at a walk Hobb could easily match. It was much slower going of course, but they were all together, and _that _was the important part. The unbeaten path flattened out into an elongated trail in between two of the mountains. The rocks here were not a rich earth color like they had been near the plains, no, these were pitch black. Ashram glanced around as he took a step onto the black ground and it crunched beneath his feet. His nose wrinkled in disgust; the ravine reeked like sulfur. Ashram warily proceeded farther along the path, letting his gaze drag over the cracks and crevices in the mountains grew and formed walls. The two Dark Elves and the human priest followed closely, the flaps of his cape almost slapping their shins.

"Any moment now…" Elensar whispered almost to himself. Something else caught Pirotess' attention and she stepped away from the group, towards the rocky mountain sides surrounding them. Ashram remained silent, but he stopped and turned to watch her. She walked quickly to the side and stooped, brushing the sooty ground with a white gloved hand.

"What is it, Pirotess?" Hobb asked. Pirotess said nothing but began running her hands over the rocky ground and sifted something from the dirt. She stood up, and held a rusted spear at her side.

"We are not the first to have come this way," she stated with gleaming amber eyes.

"What?" Elensar gaped and hurried towards her, taking the spear in his own hands. "But I thought… this was the land of the Gods…" he murmured while staring at the obviously real spear. Pirotess was staring at Ashram, who looked away uncomfortably. His own cool grey eyes roved their surroundings. The tall, nearly vertical mountainsides boxed them in from both sides. "Ah, look at the ground!" Elensar cried as he shoved the spear back at Pirotess. Elensar swept the soot away from the ground to reveal rough, but obviously human carved, stone slabs.

"Lord Ashram?" Hobb pried and all eyes went to the Black Knight was pacing about the ravine like a caged tiger.

"I don't like this," Ashram growled. "We have very little mobility here."

"Perhaps I should scout up ahead sire; there may be hostiles," Pirotess suggested, hefting the spear to make her point. Ashram only spared it a quick look.

"No. We should stay together and by the looks of it, that spear is ancient. I doubt we'll run into anyone. Besides, if we _did _happen to run into hostiles, we would be better off together," he explained.

"Perhaps we should go back?" Elensar queried. "We don't know how long this passage is, and there could be several, or-or _dozens_, of dragons perched about these mountains, just waiting to swoop down on us," he added, looking up worriedly. Ashram followed his gaze, but saw nothing.

"We can't go back just yet," Ashram almost groaned; it would mean this had been a whole waste of time. "We have to deal with the dragons," he stated resolutely. He let his gaze fall to the young Dark Elf. "Do you know where they are?"

"No, they're too close. Or there's too many of them… it's so confusing," Elensar's Dark Elf eyes darted from shadow to shadow on the walls. Ashram scowled. His scouts were not doing a tremendously good job lately. He resisted the urge to sigh.

"We're going to continue to the other side of this ravine," Ashram stated firmly, setting his eyes straight ahead. Both Pirotess and Hobb nodded obediently and Ashram started walking again; Elensar still looked doubtful. Pirotess tossed aside the rusted spear and fell into step behind the Emperor with Hobb in tow. The younger Dark Elf lagged behind.

Ashram's mind was in turmoil. People _had _been here before. Was this really the land of the Gods? Did Barbas lie to him? A thought struck Ashram like a thunderbolt and he almost froze in place. What if Barbas was human? A sorcerer? Like Wagnard? Ashram's hand moved automatically to the hilt of his sword and gripped it tight. Had he led his people to the hands of yet another fiend? Questions, questions, questions. That's all he seemed to have and no answers for any of them at all.

His feet ploughed ever onward as his mind raced elsewhere. Was it just him, or were the mountains growing steadily closer together the farther they went? He kicked the sooty dirt with an armored foot and stopped. The ground was blood red.

A piercing shriek scattered the small group as they lined the walls and crouched. The Soul Crusher was out and gleaming menacingly within seconds. Pirotess was a bit more refrained in withdrawing her saber. Elensar was too busy looking around with glassy eyes to even think about the lance tied to his back.

"Elensar! You're the Dragon-Student – do something," Ashram commanded; he had to shout over the noise. He didn't like shouting. The dragon screamed louder and Ashram hunched his shoulders, unable to cover his ears as he held the Soul Crusher.

"Ah-Ah-" Elensar gasped as he scavenged through his satchels and pockets.

"_Elensar_!" Pirotess yelled, but her voice was lost in the dragon's. He pulled out a curving horn and fumblingly put it up to his lips. He blew and a resounding bleat echoed through the ravine in response to the dragon's cry. It was an odd sound; although it was barely feet away from Ashram, it sounded leagues away yet enveloped the space, fighting back the erratic roar assaulting their eardrums. The roar actually silenced and seemed to listen to the horn like the others. Elensar removed the horn from his lips and stashed it away in his bag once again, a steely glint in his eyes.

"I hope you're ready. She's coming," he stated quietly. Ashram stole a quick look at the young tattooed Dark Elf. His lance was still slung across his back, but his hand rested confidently on his largest satchel. Ashram readjusted his hands around the Soul Crusher and shifted his jaw.

"Hobb, you know what to do," he could just see a speck coming down from the heavens. That dragon had been a good ways up.

"Yes sire," Hobb nodded and raised his hands once again in prayer. Ashram welcomed the divine strength that washed over him. Angry thunder rolled in the distance but Ashram ignored it. The dragon was getting closer. Its scales were the same color as charcoal ashes and its wings were splayed out and its four legs were tucked in as it glided down towards them.

"That's her," Ashram heard Elensar say. "She's beautiful," he added, sounding as if he were in a dream-like trance. Ashram went to tell the Dark Elf to stay focused, but Pirotess beat him to it.

"Be serious!" she scorned, throwing him a murderous glare. "Are you ready to summon or what?"

"Hm? Oh, now?"

"Yes, _now_! Preferably _before _it comes down and eats us." Pirotess' voice was sharp as she stabbed at her cousin. Elensar once again reached into one of his several satchels and this time pulled out a little pouch, containing a multicolor dust. He blew a bit of it into the wind and began to chant, what, Ashram did not know.

"What type of dragon is it?" Ashram asked and Elensar paused.

"_Draco Occi-_"

"No, no, I mean elemental." Ashram shook his head and Elensar jumped from being interrupted so quickly.

"Oh, um, fire. It's fire."

"Then you're summoning water?" Ashram asked and he let his eyes move from Dragon to Dragon Lore Student.

"Yes, sire."

"Good, continue. Aim to kill," Ashram turned to Pirotess and opened his mouth.

"To _kill_?" Elensar squeaked and Ashram moved his glare back to the younger Dark Elf.

"Yes. To kill. I don't want this thing attacking our civilians while we try and build up our camp," Ashram explained; his patience was wearing thin and the dragon was getting closer.

"I – but I – the dragon – it – I – AH!" Elensar ducked and Ashram whirled around in time to see the dragon barely two meters from his face. Ashram threw himself to the side, swinging the Soul Crusher behind him. With a loud _clang, _it came into contact with the dragon's armored body.

"Lord Ashram!" Hobb cried as the dragon swooped over the Black Knight. Pirotess looked up from where she knelt beside her cousin.

"Ashram!" she barely whispered before she stood and held her hands up in front of her. She moved them apart and gave a mighty yell. The ground began to shake and an eerie figure shot up from the ground. The ghostly figure of the Behemoth loomed in between the dragon and the female Dark Elf. The Behemoth beat down the dragon and only then did Ashram realize how small it was, comparatively, around fifteen feet long. The dragon's wings folded with a snap underneath the Behemoth's muscular trunk and tusks. Ashram gritted his teeth and ran forwards; Hobb began his chant anew and Ashram was filled with a new fervor. He passed the Behemoth and pulled back the Soul Crusher. He drove it into the dragon's skull through its eye and another piercing shriek tore through the ravine. Ashram was so close, he felt his eardrums pop and the wind from the dragon's roar pushed heavily against Ashram's armor. He struggled to hang onto the Soul Crusher and tugged it out. As soon as he did he was catapulted backwards by the ongoing gust of steaming hot air. It flung him bodily against the opposite mountainside; there was a sharp pain in his spine and his vision went dark.

The dragon's cry slowly dwindled and it slumped to the ground with its tail and wings lashing out weakly. The Behemoth disappeared and Pirotess bolted to the Emperor's side.

"Lord Ashram! Hobb, get over here!" she commanded and her hair whipped around wildly as she turned from side to side before devoting her full attention to the fallen human. His eyes were closed but his eyebrows were still furrowed in the look of intense concentration he almost always wore. He was breathing raggedly, fighting the weight of the armor and heavy cape that weighed upon his torso. The cape, extra collar and shoulder plates were doing more harm than good, hampering his breathing. Pirotess' hands went for the buckles and Elensar looked up from studying the dragon's corpse.

"What are you doing?" he asked aghast and Hobb finally reached them, knelling as well.

"Trying to save Lord Ashram!" she growled through gritted teeth as she pulled her muscles tighter in an attempt to slide the heavy metal guards off his shoulders. "Help me!" she demanded and Hobb quickly obliged. They clumsily removed the extra collar and shoulder guards and unwound the cape from the Emperor.

"Save him?" Elensar repeated dumbfounded and within a second he reappeared right there with him. Hobb chanted a prayer and a sphere of white light appeared at his hands above Ashram's chest. The light shimmered off Ashram's his burnt face and his appearance steadily began to return to normal. Only when his marble white skin was back to its normal smooth state did Pirotess remove her hands from his shoulders.

"I don't think you realize just how fragile these humans are," she stated in a wispy voice.

**Author's Note: **I'm alive! And so is the story! Yay:dances around: Ho-hum, I really should be working on my Foreign Policy homework… but obviously I'm not! D

I'm sorry if Ashram seems a bit OOC (namely weak), but he still isn't 100 percent recovered from the trip _and _dragons' roars are powerfully magical and can "shatter a warrior's resolve" _and _getting thrown back-first onto a rocky surface isn't exactly good for the spine. … I'm so mean! I should be nicer to the characters.

Anyway, I'll be sending out individual review replies now, so be sure to log in and review so I can reply!

If I get enough time I'm going to watch the TV series _and _the OVA again sometime soon and I'll have enough time to continue working on this. We shall see. Thanks for reading, and please review!


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